


just one more plane ride (and it's done)

by openmouthwideeye



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/openmouthwideeye/pseuds/openmouthwideeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne Tarth is a court-appointed lawyer. Jaime Lannister likes to push her buttons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just one more plane ride (and it's done)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [renaissance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/gifts).



> Posted on tumblr a few days ago, but I suppose I'll add it here, too. A short piece to distract me from editing WEH. Prompted by google docs and Isy (don't blame her, it was entirely inadvertent). Warning: totally frivolous and unedited.
> 
> *title from "Bruised" by Jack's Mannequin

“It’s times like these we may as well be married.”

The words hung in the airplane, buffeted by querulous murmurs and restless children and the polite, perky flight attendants that surrounded them in coach.

The cabin felt strangely hot, its airflow trapped along the narrow armrest between them. Brienne could feel the starched cuff of his pressed, white shirt. It tantalized the bare hairs on her arm, and despite the way she shivered through her sweat she wished she hadn’t folded her blazer in the overhead compartment.

She looked sharply at the man beside her. “We are not married. We aren’t even civil.”

“Haven’t killed each other yet,” Jaime Lannister countered, tossing an arm over his eyes as his fingers jabbed at the button between them. “That’s more than can be said for a number of couples of my acquaintance.” The metal button jammed and he lifted his elbow all of an inch to peer from beneath his designer sleeve, frowning at the seat like it had personally offended him.

Brienne swatted his hand away, glaring at nothing as she jostled the corner loose and depressed the button. She didn’t appreciate the allusion to his sister’s late husband, particularly not when she’d be appointed by the court to prove him uninvolved.

Jaime’s seat fell back with a jolt, a scant three inches that probably weren’t worth the neck injury. He groaned, and Brienne allowed herself a miniscule smile, scooting away to stare out the window.

He resumed his idle reasoning just when she managed to forget him. “We’re together all the time.”

“By necessity,” she clipped, tugging down the hemline of her skirt. It had ridden up to reveal her knees, cut for someone much shorter and slightly slimmer. She chanced a quick glance at her client. His arm was pressed firmly over his eyes, but smooth, tan skin shifted along his handsome jaw, tugging her suspicion up with his smile.

“I’ve told you all my secrets,” he hummed, sinking into the threadbare cushion.

“Why didn’t you run?” she tossed back, not even bothering to catalogue his reaction. They’d been down that road before; it led nowhere but to her bottle of aspirin.

“All. My. Secrets,” he murmured again, teasing.

She harrumphed, squinting into the sunlight and trying not to tap her fingers as she ran through the case in her head.

_Jaime Lannister. Age 34. Arrested in the home of his sister, Cersei Baratheon, as an accessory to the murder of her husband, Robert. Circumstantial evidence. The sister had fled the country, allegedly on a business trip with their father, Tywin Lannister. One younger brother, unaccounted for. Cousin: Lancel Lannister, under scrutiny for possession—_

Her fingers drummed the armrest as her mind sifted through the details. How could she argue a man’s innocence when she couldn’t discern the truth for herself?

The man in question lowered his arm, shifting lazily to look at her. His eyes were too green, too close. “We’re stuck on this shitty flight, running three hours late to the biggest hearing of either of our lives, and the hypochondriac behind us hasn’t stopped moaning since that kid a row over puked on his au pair.” His fingers closed around hers, stilling the nervous _tap tap tap_. “It doesn’t get much more married than that.”

Brienne pressed her lips, extricating her hand from his and folding it primly in her lap. The retort she’d nearly made about lacking certain bodily inclinations died on her tongue.

_Jaime Lannister. Age 34. Arrested in the home of his sister, Cersei Baratheon, as an accessory to the murder of her husband . . ._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism welcome.


End file.
